


Cut It Out, Restart

by Dooka, skyaes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BOM Keith, Blood, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Panic Attacks, Pidge is a Trans Girl in our stories, Pining Keith (Voltron), Post Season 4, Sadness, Sharing a Bed, Temporary Character Death, and too much yelling, authors used the word yeet alot while storyboarding, it's also really gay my dudes, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 08:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13783362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dooka/pseuds/Dooka, https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyaes/pseuds/skyaes
Summary: “Sorry guys,” Lance’s voice is clear now, like the static that lives in the earpiece of Keith’s headset is holding its breath too. “I guess you’ll have to find a new Red Paladin after all.”Someone leaves, someone comes back and war is tough, but we are tougher.





	Cut It Out, Restart

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all, T-minus 6 days til Season 5 and we...spent way too fucking long writing this.
> 
> This marks our first collab on this site and we gotta say, it's a big fucking mess.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy anyways,
> 
> skyaes and Dooka :)

The mission was simple, really. Infiltrate the command centre of one of the Galran cruisers, retrieve a copy of the plans for Zarkon’s new secret weapon, delete the original copy and get out. Simple.

So naturally, it was a disaster from the beginning.

God, their lives were such a fucking cliché.

_300 ticks._

Keith sweeps his eyes around the corridor and listens for the telltale signs of enemy combatants. He can hear the sounds of Pidge’s fingers tapping rapidly against the interface in the control room at the end of the hall. Steps approach from his left, but before he can even move to swing his blade, the sound of a blaster bolt rings sharply in the air, followed by the sound of a body slumping to the floor.

“I got you, Buddy.” And oh. _Oh_ . Even during one of their most serious missions, with his bayard pressed against his cheek and the lifeless bodies of Galra soldiers at their feet, Lance predictably still has time to be so unwaveringly _Lance_. And Keith predictably still has time to pretend that Lance's smile doesn’t create what feels like an erupting volcano in his stomach.  

He flashes Keith one last thousand watt grin ( _Oh._ ) before turning his attention and his body back to reading over Pidge’s shoulder.

_200 ticks._

There’s a sudden burst of static over the comms and then - “You need to get out of there.” Shiro’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument. Lance sends Keith an unreadable look from down the hall, his grip on his bayard visibly tightening.

“What do you mean?” it’s strange to watch Lances lips move out of time with his voice ringing through the comm.

“The Galra anticipated the attack.” Shiro says. “They knew we’d come for the blueprints. They also knew that if we got to the control room it was game over for them. The panel is set to self-destruct in 150 ticks. Pidge, Lance, you need to get out of there and back to your lions immediately. Keith, the Blade’s ship is set to take off in 100 ticks.” More static.

There’s a small cut on Keith’s elbow that runs from his forearm, over protruding bone, to the middle of his tricep. Galra soldiers aren’t really one for one-on-one combat, but their blasters can hurt when they want to. He’s come much closer to death. God, he’d come closer to death earlier that week, but the cut was the most recent material reminder of just how real this all was. Knowledge or death. He clenches his teeth and turns to face the corridor wall.

“We can’t just abandon the mission.” Keith almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. “We’ve come this far and if we lose the blueprints now, we will have absolutely no leverage on the Galra.” He swings his blade over his shoulder, pressing his arm against the wall in front of him. “We just need a few more ticks. We can download it and get out in time.”

  
Keith turns just his head in the direction of Lance and Pidge. Her head is still ducked down, eyes shining and wrists bouncing. He can practically see the cogs spinning in her head. Lance’s expression, however, catches Keith off guard.

His eyes are clouded over in thought, and Keith can’t remember the last time he had seen Lance so serious. If the cogs in Pidge’s brain are spinning, then the ones in Lance’s are running a marathon. Cerulean eyes jump from The Green Paladin to the rogue Blade member shifting his weight from foot to foot down the hall. Keith watches him breathe. Once, twice; his chest plate rises and falls with the action, and Keith doesn’t want to think about why he finds it endearing.

_100 ticks._

“Uh guys,” Hunk’s voice cuts through his thoughts, followed by the sound of what must have been nothing less than fifty explosions. “It’s not looking good out here. I don’t think Shiro, Allura and I can hold them off for much longer.” The comm fizzes out and Keith doesn’t hear, but rather sees Pidge swear under her breath.

“Just a few more ticks.” Her words slur together over the comm and Keith can’t tell if it’s out of focus or fear.

“We don’t have a few more ticks!” Shiro all but screams “Get out of there, _now!_ ” Pidge’s fingers don’t slow on the panel, and Lance’s eyes follow their every move.

_50 ticks._

Shiro is panicking now, if his laboured breathing is any indication, but the three teenagers make no move to leave. Keith figures this is quite possibly the worst time to come to this realization -  with death looming over his shoulder, watching with bared teeth, waiting for him to bite the bullet - but as Lance’s chest plate rises and falls Keith understands why _knowledge or death_ never sat comfortably on his tongue.

He doesn’t want to die.

God, what a fucking cliché.

“Paladins, there is no time for this. Retreat from the ship immediately.” Allura shouts and really that’s all Lance seems to need to make up his mind.

_30 ticks._

“Sorry Pidge,” he murmurs, before picking her up by the back of her armour and launching her down the hall.

Directly at Keith.

Pidge squacks in protest, flailing in mid-air, until she lands, head first, on top of Keith; sending them both toppling to the floor in an awkward tangle of limbs.

“Lance, what are you doing?” she demands, scrambling to stand up and not step on Keith in the process. Her eyes bulge from her head and Keith thinks it makes her look younger than usual.

“Haven’t any of you ever noticed that Galra doors can only be closed from the inside?” Lance asks, his voice steadier than his gaze. Keith’s eyes grow comically wide, something Lance would surely have made fun of him for in any other situation. Lance raises his hand and the door slides closed in slow motion.

“No, _Lance_ -” he shouts, halfway up and ready to bolt at the closing door. A muffled blast rings from behind the door and the access pad to the right of it flickers out just as he slams into the door. “Lance!” he shouts through the comm, because what else can he do? His fists slam against the metal door with a dull thud, the pain in his hands barely registering.

“What’s going on in there?” Shiro demands. “Lance, what are you doing?”

There’s silence from Lance’s end, but Keith can faintly recognize the tapping of fingers against the panel behind the door. _What is he doing?_

“Lance?” Hunk this time, followed by Allura’s “Can you hear us?” both met with silence.

“Lance!” Pidge yells, attempting to make her voice travel through the door.

“Will you all shut your quiznaks? I’m trying to work here.” Lance says through the comm; lowly, like his mouth is full.

“Work? Work on what? Lance what are you talking about?” Hunk splutters.

 _“Lance,”_ Keith’s voice is weak, hand colliding with the door at the same time as his words.  “ _Please,_ ” he’s well aware of how helpless he sounds, but he can’t bring himself to care.

_10 ticks._

“Sorry guys,” Lance’s voice is clear now, like the static that lives in the earpiece of Keith’s headset is holding its breath too. “I guess you’ll have to find a new Red Paladin after all.” he laughs humorlessly, and it comes through the receiver as a crackle.  “Hey, Keith,” he all but whispers, “tell my mom I love her.”

_5 ticks._

“Lance,” Keith says, though it comes out as more of a growl. “Don’t you-”

The static is back, louder than it’s ever been. It takes Keith a second to realize that it’s not the comm that’s ringing. He’s tossed backwards, tumbling into Pidge once again, stray debris from the ship getting caught on his eyelashes.

He can almost hear Hunk screaming over the burnt out comms, and even countless galaxies away from Earth, with this incessant ringing in his ears, he can almost _feel_ Lance’s mother’s heart breaking.

Or maybe that’s his own heart, he’s not sure anymore.

He feels a tugging sensation on his arm that yanks him back to reality. Pidge, tears streaking down her face, leaving trails of wet, clear skin on her dirt stained face.

“-eith, Keith. C’mon, we have to go.” she sniffles brokenly.

The ship shudders violently, jolting them off balance.

“We need to get back to the Lions,” when Keith speaks it feels like there’s gravel in his throat. “The door-” _Lance_ “-saved us from the initial blast, but the control room is gone, the engines are going to give out soon.” Pidge nods her head, not bothering to wipe her cheeks.

“Shiro? Can you hear us?” Pidge mutters, turning her head away from Keith. No reply. “Dammit, the system must have been compromised by the explosion.” she says more to herself than to Keith. He nods anyways.

She tugs his arm again, less forcefully this time, and they half-run, half-stumble, back to Red and Geen, parked on the other side of the ship.

When Keith left the team to join the Blade of Marmora, he had already said his goodbyes to Red. She was Lance’s long before he was ready to say goodbye to her. Sometimes he figures it was easier that way. No tearful farewell, no cutting of ties with the one being that knew Keith’s brain better than himself. Red was his. Red is not his. Red is Lance’s. His heart feels like a stone that’s sinking into the erupting volcano in his stomach.

Red is Lance’s. Lance is not here

_Lance is dead._

For the sake of information that they _didn’t even get_. For the sake of the team and the galaxy and the bloody universe. For Pidge’s life. For Keith’s. This insufferable boy from Cuba, this unwavering sharpshooter, the backbone of Keith’s leadership; his right hand man.

The boy with stars in his eyes and constellations in his smiles. The boy who still didn't understand his worth on this team. The boy who let his Spanish live on his tongue, caged behind his teeth with a lock that could only be keyed open with excitement.

This absolute masterpiece of a boy.  

_Oh._

Voltron is gone, Lance took it with him. Not only the fact that Red was now without a Paladin, not that at all. Lance was the _heart_ of the team. (The leg, the right arm). With his annoyingly funny jokes and genuine smiles that made Keith’s stomach do summersaults around his intestines. Lance, Keith realizes, was not just the backbone to _his_ leadership. Shiro was the head, sure, but Lance was the spine.

Pidge launches herself at Green’s awaiting, open mouth; sparing Keith a desperate look, like a lightbulb went off in her head.

Lance is gone. There is no Paladin to pilot Red back to the Castle.

There is no _Voltron._

Keith shifts his grip on his blade.

...

There’s a stain on the wall of Red’s cockpit that has been there since Keith found her. He used to sit in her and stare at that wall, at the yellowing stain that crawled up over the corner toward the ceiling. He hated it. Countless nights, when his insomnia glued his eyelashes to his eyebrows, he would scrub at her walls in a futile attempt to rid her of the stain. To no avail. It almost looked like a water stain, dripping down in steady streaks.

He sits in her now, and it refracts off his bones, just how _right_ it feels to be here.

“C’mon, Red, I need you to work.” he whispers. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Pidge take off through the opening that they came in through. He takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes.

“Red, I know I’m not Lance, and I’m so sorry that I lost him. But the team, they need me. They need _you._ Please, Red,” he pleads, gripping her controls tightly, “I’m not losing anyone else today.”

When Red comes alive, Keith almost doesn’t expect her to. Her controls glow and he wastes about three seconds recoiling from the adrenaline that shocks his system to life again. He lurches Red forward at full force.

The rest of the team isn’t far when he finally escapes the confiding walls of the Galran ship, presumably waiting for him. No, not him, Keith realizes, _Lance_. God, they have no idea what happened to Lance.

Keith is a good pilot. He was at the top of his class at the Garrison, and months in space flying giant robotic Lions had only served to improve his skill. Today, however, he’s a mess. He flies Red back to the castle, alongside the rest of his (former) team, but his movements are choppy. Red is either too sensitive to his controls, or doesn’t react at all. Pidge is no different. She crashes into debris in front of Hunk, and Keith wonders what kind of panic would be coming through the speaker of his helmet if the comms were still working.

Landing Red proves to be the easiest part of his short-lived time as a stand in Paladin. It’s like coming home. He stumbles out of her mouth, too caught up in his brain to remember his feet. His heart feels heavy in his chest, like a pile of bricks are being cemented to his rib cage. He can’t breathe.

He traces the walls as we winds his way to the lounge, stepping over his feet and toeing at the cracks in the floor. Maybe if he got lost he wouldn’t have to be the deliverer of bad news.

 _Bad news,_ Keith thinks, _is a way to put it._

He wanders through the Castle halls, purposefully taking the long way around. If anyone asked, he would have to tell them he got lost. That a month away from the already too big ship had hindered his memory of the layout. He was too caught up on _Lance_ to focus on his feet.

He was too caught up on Lance to focus on anything, really.

He was too caught up on Lance.

He doesn’t really know how, but apparently, when his body is on autopilot, it takes him directly to the door of his old room. He contemplates opening it, facing the bare walls and dust-covered mattress, the home he left behind. He turns away.

Lances room is much cleaner than Keith had anticipated. His bed isn’t made, but his jacket is hung neatly next to the door. There’s a comb on his nightstand, next to the orange phone that Pidge had gifted to him. Other than that, there’s no indication that someone lived in this room. Other than that, there’s no indication that someone _lived._

He sinks his weight onto the bed, toes curling in distaste at the squeaking sound the springs make. His lungs remember to breathe, but just barely.

_In, out._

His breathing is the only source of noise in the room. Growing louder, more forced, with every exhale. _Lance is dead_ . Something falls in his lap, and when he looks down, he realizes that they are tears. _Lance sacrificed himself for us._ He tries not to think about Lance, all alone, a fucking martyr with some stupid hero complex.

Keith is an ugly crier. Sobs and sniffles turn into hiccups and ragged breaths. Snot and tears drip down his face, falling in streams around his mouth. They collect at his chin, and he raises a shaking, gloved hand to wipe them away. He wonders if he looks like stain on Red’s wall.

_In, out._

_“Haven’t any of you ever noticed that Galra doors can only be closed from the inside?”_ Keith hadn’t. And he hasn’t asked, but he’s almost positive that no one else had either. But Lance had, because _of course_ he had. Lance always seemed to know more than he let on. He was an observer. He took information in stride, tucked it away in his pocket and used it to his advantage somewhere down the line, long after anyone else would have dismissed the information as unimportant. Keith doesn’t want to know what kinds of things Lance had to dangle over his head.

A violent sob climbs through his body.  

_In, out._

Keith made a point to tell Lance to shut up quite frequently. He was just always _talking._ Sometimes (a lot of the time) he didn’t even need to be talking, wasn’t really even saying anything. He was simply the type of person who didn’t like awkward silence, so his solution was to fill it. With speaking. Keith, understandably, couldn’t relate. He had never passed up an opportunity to tease Lance about his boisterous antics.

Still, in his last moments, moments of deafening silence, Lance chose to speak _directly_ to Keith. “ _Tell my mom I love her.”_ he had said. Keith took a shuddering breath. _I will. I promise. I’m sorry._

_In, out._

Keith never considered himself much of a crier. When his mother left, he had grit his teeth and held Shiro’s hand so tightly it’s a wonder how it didn’t fall off. When his father had left him, Keith didn’t allow himself to cry. Figured he didn’t deserve to. He had driven both of his parents away, it was his _fault,_ who would he be if he had cried? After Shiro disappeared, Keith promised himself he wouldn’t waste time on crying anymore.

_In._

But Lance has always been the exception to every last one of his promises.

_Out._

“Paladins!” Allura’s voice booms over the speakers ( _in, out.)_ “I need you all immediately.” she doesn’t sound angry - thank God, Keith couldn’t take that right now, but she definitely doesn’t sound happy.

Keith sits for five more heartbeats (that’s all he will allow himself for now, not when the team needs to know what’s happening, not when they need him). He steadies his breathing, wipes his chin again, leaving his eyes undoubtedly swollen and bloodshot, before standing and making his way to the ship’s control room.

The doors slide open, as if the memory of him was enough to shock them apart. Allura stands on the other side, back facing Keith, with her hands on her hips. Hunk is standing in front of her, sheepishly shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. Shiro is facing Keith, and raises a pensive eyebrow when he catches his (puffy) eyes. Coran has his head down, leaning against the ship’s main control panel.

Keith steps forward on wobbling knees, making his way next to where Hunk stands. Hunk gives him a concerned look (presumably at the state of his face), but Allura doesn’t notice, and if she does she doesn’t show it. Keith can’t decide if he feels grateful for that fact. When Pidge trudges in (finally), her hair is sticking up wildly, and her eyes are distant. The tear stains have merged with the dirt on her cheeks, leaving a smudged mess that mixes with her freckles. She looks about as bad as Keith feels.

“The Castle lost power at the same time as the comms.” Shiro explains when Pidge stops to stare at the vacant screen that usually inhabits the mission’s track record. She nods wordlessly.

“Uh, where’s Lance?” Hunk asks, shifting his gaze from Keith to Pidge. The two in question share an earth shattering look. Keith closes his eyes, can’t manage to look the others in the eye while he breaks their hearts.

“Lance is…” and suddenly he can’t breathe again.

“Lance is what?” Shiro’s voice is calm, but closer than Keith remembers him being.

“Dead!” Pidge shrieks, and Keith opens his eyes to look at her. “He’s dead and he did it for us! He threw us out and locked the door and thought he could get the information by himself!” She’s crying again. “He’s dead, and we let it happen.” Her voice is resigned when she finishes. Hunk stills the second she opens her mouth. Keith looks over at him now and it’s quite possibly the worst decision he could have made.

Hunk’s expression shifts from confusion to realization, then anger, and finally settling on the most excruciating expression Keith has ever seen. He has to look away.

“Dead,” He hears Hunk whisper, Keith closes his eyes again, wrapping his arms around his stomach, willing himself to disappear. “That’s,” he pauses, “not possible.” Pidge sniffles.

Hunk shrinks in on himself, falling backwards and bracing himself on the back of Pidge’s interface port chair. There’s a presence by Keith’s elbow, and when he opens his eyes again, he realizes it’s Shiro. Keith bites the inside of his cheek.

“Lance… for the… blueprints.” Allura thinks aloud. She raises a hand to cover her mouth and pinches her nose.

Pidge shakes her head, “we didn’t get the blueprints.”

Pidge has always been Keith’s rock. She’s steady and constant. Her thoughts are always backed up with facts and logic, something Keith greatly appreciates. Keith doesn’t really find talking to people easy, but talking to _Pidge_ had proven to be one of the most natural feeling things he’s ever experienced.

She’s not so steady now. She sniffles, stops crying, then her face wrinkles and she lets out another sob. She is strong, and Keith knows it. Pidge, Keith realizes now, has known too much loss in her short life.

The Castle shakes, rumbles beneath their feet, and Coran’s head pops up from behind the distressed Princess. “I, um, managed to fix the power in the ship’s control system.” he mutters, his voice is lifeless and flat and all wrong.

The screen at the head of the ship lights up with a ping, and Keith manages to turn his head in the right direction. There’s a flashing orange light in the middle of the screen, blinking light into the darkness of the room. Pidge inhales sharply.

“What’s that?” Shiro asks.

Pidge plops down by the panel. “Something’s downloaded to the system’s database.” Her fingers dance across the keys, eerily similar to how they moved over the Galra keypad. A file pops up on the screen, too small to be intelligible from where Keith is standing, but it makes Pidge freeze.

“What’s wrong?” Allura steps forward.

A beat of silence, then - “They’re the blueprints to Zarkon’s new weapon.”

_In, out._

 …

The Blade of Marmora consists of the Galra’s most intelligent strategists and ruthless warriors. Keith, for all that it’s worth, has learned a lot about war during his time with them. His morals don’t always align perfectly with theirs, but Kolivan had once spoken the words that Keith carries with him to every mission he faces. _War waits for no one._ Keith believed him. Tucked the idea in the back of his mind for lonely missions and lonelier nights. It’s completely illogical to expect war to just _stop_ because someone wanted it to.

Now, however, Keith feels as though every planet in every galaxy has halted. Suspended stagnant in space. How can a planet orbit if there is no sun for it to revolve around?

Hunk hasn’t really moved from his spot by Pidge’s station, but every now and again Keith sees his shoulders shift. At least he still knows how to breathe. Allura and Shiro busy themselves with the new blueprints, mapping out attacks and vulnerabilities on the newly crafted opponent. Keith wonders how they can even think straight right now, but war waits for no one. Pidge had left wordlessly, slipped unnoticed from the room, the minute she could. Presumably to her room, or maybe the little office she’s made herself.

Keith knows he should stay, help Allura and Shiro in their attack planning, maybe contact Kolivan to tell him about their successful (absolute disaster of a) mission, but he doesn’t. Knows he can’t. Not with the room down the hall collecting dust shaped flowers for a boy who will never see them.

Keith (and the other Paladins) never really venture down the south wing of the Castle. It’s colder than the rest of the ship, the lights are more sporadic and dimmer than the other hallways. Lance used to joke that there was a yeti at the end of it. No one ever tested his theory. Suffice to say it isn’t the most welcoming corridor. Which is exactly what Keith needs right now.

If the whole universe feels wrong and unwelcoming, why not just amplify the feeling? How much worse could it get?

There is no yeti at the end of the hall.

What he does find, is an alternate entrance to the Hall of Lions, this one far more rundown, as if this corridor isn’t used enough to be bothered with to service. Although, he supposes that if it is a castle, there must have once been servants to help with the upkeep, as it’s far too large to maintenance all alone.

Still, the doors snap open with a groaning whoosh, revealing Pidge, sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, blank faced and pensive, her face pale and drawn, but no longer covered in grime and tears.

He walks into the room, drawing up to her side slowly, so as not to startle her. She gives no indication that she’s heard him come in, but turns her head towards him slightly as he comes to her side.

Her eyes are emptier than the void outside the hangar that still sits open, emptier than his own stomach, the volcano that had once been erupting now dormant.

The best thing about Pidge, he thinks as he sets himself down next to her, is that no words are necessary. The other members of this team, as much as he cares about them all - and he _does_ care about them all, would try to talk and offer comfort through words, through touches and other physical connection. But Pidge, like him, prefers to just sit, and take comfort in being next to each other like this.

More than that, Pidge is the only one on this ship that has any idea how he’s feeling right now. It’s one thing to hear and know that Lance is gone, but another entirely to watch it happen, and know they could have done something, if they had been quicker or smarter...or just done more somehow.

He isn’t sure how long they sit there before he feels a weight drop onto his shoulder. A glance over shows Pidge, her face buried against his shoulder, the rest of her body slumped over lifelessly. He can feel a steady wet patch growing where her face rests, but decides not to mention it.

After the last of her muffled sobs and sniffles die out, he opens his mouth to say something hopefully comforting, it’s what the others would do.

It’s what _Lance_ would do.

But he’s never been the best at words, as pretty much everyone knows, and he doesn’t want to make this worse for Pidge than it has to be. So instead he brings his arms up around her, gently, as if scared to shatter her if he squeezes too hard.

Pidge makes a choked noise before squishing him in a death hold, her sobs coming a little louder now, her cold nose buried in his collar bone. He doesn’t register the cold wetness on his cheeks at first, too occupied with Pidge’s muted shaking, but when he does his fingers shake before fisting in her flight suit.

“I’m sorry,” whispers Pidge hoarsely “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry. I should’ve...I should’ve been faster.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Keith bites out around the tears caught in his throat “You know Lance, he does whatever the hell he wants.” The joke falls flat.

“After the Kerberos mission, I promised myself I would never lose my brother again.” She shakes her head. “I found Matt, so why does it feel like I broke that promise? Why does it hurt just as much?”

Keith begins to speak, but is interrupted by the most blood curdling sound he’s ever heard.

Blue lets out a roar that sounds less like an angry war cry and more like the anguished screams of a dying man. She thrashes in place for a moment before launching into the air, screaming out the hangar door faster than Keith or Pidge can think to react in any meaningful way.

"What the hell?” asks Pidge, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Is anyone in the hangar right now?” Allura’s voice echoes around them. “What’s happening? Where is the Blue Lion?”

Pidge clears her throat, “We’re here. And I’m not sure.”

“Blue just flew out,” calls Keith, before being interrupted by another roar.

This one, in contrast to the last, is fire and pain, the cry that Keith has become accustomed to in his head, has found that it has come to mean safety and hope.

He’s moving before he knows it, “What’s wrong Red? What is it?”

Red simply opens its mouth, allowing Keith to settle himself at the helm before launching into space after Blue. He’s only thankful that he still has the comm connected to the team that they lent to him for the mission.

“Where are you taking me?” all he gets in response is some fond, gentle nudging through their rapidly reasserting bond, and a few flashes of emotion that make his heart pound in anticipation and anxiety, though he’s not sure why.

“Keith,” Shiro says, slightly static-y through the comm. “Where are you? Where is the Blue Lion?”

“I’m here” he replies “I’m following Blue, she just took off all of a...” His thoughts whir frantically, keeping up with the anxious pace of his heart, flying through his mind almost faster than he can register. He remembers the last time a Lion had acted without a pilot, when he was close to death and Red appeared, the closest to a guardian angel as he was likely to get, and understands exactly where they are headed with startling clarity. “...sudden”

“Keith?” he hears Pidge ask.

“I think I know where we’re going,” he says “I think it’s Lance.”

“...Keith,” Allura’s voice is too gentle, too careful. “I get that you’re hurting, we all are, but Lance is...he’s gone, now”

Anger rushes through him, though not enough to drown out the anxiety-anticipation-fear that is still flooding his system. “I’m not imagining things, why else would Red get upset and Blue just leave to head back the way we just came? Who else in the universe has a connection to both the Blue and Red Lions?”

“Keith, get back to the castle, there may be Galra still in this area. It might be a trap.” says Shiro in his Black Paladin voice.

“I have to go. I have to see.” he says quietly “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Keith-” starts Allura in her Princess voice. Keith shuts off his comm.

He turns back to the cold vastness of space in front of him, the only thing in sight the faint light of Blue as she rockets away. He grips Red’s controls tighter and urges her after Blue. “Let’s go.”

...

All that’s left of the crumbling ship is bits of debris that float lifelessly in space. Keith maneuvers Red through the worst of it, small pieces of ship hitting Red’s exterior at a rapid pace. If he closed his eyes, he thinks it might sound like a rainstorm. Blue had rushed in, leaving Keith and Red to trudge behind and try to keep up. He had never seen her like this, so reckless and determined.

Red takes a rather aggressive corner around a stray piece of rubble, and Keith catches sight of Blue, floating by one of the bigger pieces of debris. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he approaches, hoping she stays put until he reaches her.  

She seems to have just… stopped. Surrounded by miscellaneous ship debris. He searches the rubble, eyes shifting from the right to the left of Blue. Nothing but broken glass and Galra tech. Something catches his eye, though; a splatter of red against the emptiness of the galaxy. It looks like an exploded paintball.

Exploded paintball turns to exploded paint can as he approaches Blue, and he feels his stomach twist uncomfortably. It’s blood, he’s sure. _Lance’s blood._ His mind screams.

He keens again, posture becoming rigid and stiff as he frantically throws his gaze around Blue. As he moves Red forward slowly, not wanting to crash into the mess of Galra ship parts, something materializes right next to Blue, white except for the red that surrounds it. Keith’s eyes widen, his grip on Red’s controls tighten.

Lance.

He’s at Lance’s side in a heartbeat, Red’s mouth swallowing the Blue Paladin, just in time for Keith to throw himself at her entrance. Lance is limp in Keith’s arms, and there’s a gash on his stomach that seems to be the source of the blood. His armour is filthy, and Keith has to wipe his helmet to be able to see his face properly. He doesn’t seem to be breathing steadily. But Keith isn’t either.

_Lance is here._

_Lance is alive._  

_Labce is dying._

Blue must have felt it, that Lance was dying. A broken suit in the middle of an atmosphere lacking space. Keith hadn’t realized their connection was so strong. But here she was, floating without a paladin in the middle of ship wreckage, just to ensure Lance’s safety.

His heart jump-starts again, heightening his senses, easing his mind. Lance’s head rests in Keith’s lap, neck being pillowed by one of his thighs. Lance is so cold, but Keith’s body burns everywhere they touch. He yanks his gloves off, presses his right hand to Lance’s abdomen, pulling away to reveal a stain of crimson on his naked hand. He hooks one arm under Lance’s knees, swings the unconscious boy’s arm over his shoulder and carries him back to Red’s seat.

He sits Lance in his lap, head resting against Keith’s collarbone ( _oh.)_ Blue stares at them through the windshield and Keith smiles gratefully at her. His right hand comes around Lance, holding him tightly around his middle.

His victory is short-lived when a blast rings out to his right, a bolt nearly nicking Red’s side. He jolts in the direction of Blue, narrowly avoiding colliding with the other Lion. Lance’s head bounces and knocks against Keith’s chest and Keith fights to keep Lance sitting upright. A Galra ship flies past him and Keith swallows thickly. He considers his options: take off in the direction of the Castle as fast as Red will take him and hope that they can outrun the Galra ship, or turn around, with Lance in his lap, and attempt to take the enemy out.

Lance’s head rocks from side to side.

Keith is about to hightail it back to the Castle when another ship zooms past him in the direction of the other Galra. It’s followed by a blast from a third ship and suddenly Keith is surrounded. He grips Lance tighter, assessing his position. It doesn’t look good.

One of the ships advances toward him, and Blue opens her mouth to force it backwards. Keith focuses on a different one, twisting Red around the opposing ship’s acceleration. Blue roars, and Keith registers something rapidly approaching him from behind. He spins Red, hoping Lance isn’t too disturbed by the movement, and hopes Red can withstand the hit he knows she’s about to take.  

It doesn’t come.

Instead, the Galra ship is brutally thrown at one of the larger pieces of debris, exploding in a shower of dancing sparks and flame. 

The comm fizzes back on in Keith’s ear and he smiles at the scene in front of him. “You didn’t think I’d let you do it alone, did you?” Pidge inquires as she takes out a second ship.

“Wouldn’t dare.” he replies breathlessly. Blue sends the third ship spiraling upwards before blasting it into pieces that blend in with the rest of the wreckage. “I-I got Lance.” His tone changes when he looks down at the boy in question. “He’s alive, but he’s bleeding pretty bad. We have to get him back to the Castle.” 

Pidge breathes steadily through the comms, “okay, let’s go, then.”

The flight back is quiet, but the most agonizing ten minutes of his life. Keith has been on thousands of missions, narrowly escaping death on a regular basis, but this must have been the most scared he’s ever been. It’s almost more agonizing than the trip to Lance in the first place. He is heavy in his lap, bleeding onto Keith’s Blade uniform. Keith’s grip around Lance’s waist doesn’t once falter the whole way back.

The Paladins gape at them the second Keith emerges from Red with a lifeless Lance in his arms. “How…?” Allura breathes, but Keith doesn’t stop to explain. Not right now. He pushes passed them with the intention of carrying Lance straight to the healing pods himself. Coran runs through the doors then, hands flailing wildly at Keith, who passes Lance rather reluctantly to the older gentleman.

The doors slide closed behind the pair and Keith feels four pairs of eyes on the back of his head. “He’s alive.” he begins, turning his head but nothing else. “I… don’t know how, but he is. Blue must have sensed it.” He pauses, “his armour at his stomach was cut open, I don’t know on what, so he wasn’t breathing properly.”

“This can’t keep _happening_ .” Keith hears Hunk say, a silence falls over the room. “We can’t keep having people think they’re not vital members of this team. How many of us are going to have to come _this close_ ,” he holds up his finger and thumb, “to _dying_ before we all realize that _Voltron needs all of us?_ We’re a _family_ , we _need_ each other!” His eyes are blown wide, hands stuck in his hair.

“Lance knew what he was doing,” Shiro says calmly. Keith turns toward the team and squints at the words. “He did this for the mission, he knew the importance of the intel.”

“Bullshit!” Hunk all but screams, the room fills with heaviness. Pidge and Keith share a look. In all the years Keith has known him, he’s never heard Hunk swear. “You think Lance would have done this if he knew how valuable he was to us? Do you think he would have even thought to _sacrifice himself_ if he knew how upset we would be if we lost him?” Hunk is breathing heavily now, Keith thinks he might be on the verge of a panic attack.

“I’ll tell you what he was thinking. I know my bestfriend. He was _thinking_ that he was the weakest link. He was _thinking_ that the universe could function perfectly fine without him. He was _thinking_ that _we_ could function perfectly fine without him. He was thinking,” he pauses to breathe, “that it would be easier to not be thinking at all.”

They settle back into that suffocating silence, everyone processing Hunks words. He’s _right._ Keith doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to forgive himself. Lance had come to him before with these insecurities, held his pinky finger up like a trophy of “Congratulations, you came.”

Keith had dismissed these thoughts, patted Lance on the back and brushed it off as nothing. Of course, he knew that Lance was right; that there were too many Paladins for the number of Lions. The weakest link needed to go. So he went. Abandoned his family in hopes of making a difference, if not for himself, then for the people he cared about most in the universe. But Lance’s insecurities would not diminish and Keith was a fool for thinking that they would.

“It won’t happen again,” Keith tries to pour the truth of his words into his team’s eyes. “I won’t let him do this again.”

“I really want to believe you.”

Keith nods. _Me too._

…

Lance is beautiful.

Keith had never really allowed himself to admit that, but now, staring at his completely relaxed face, Keith can’t really deny the fact anymore.

He has freckles that Keith never really noticed before. They were disappearing from lack of sunlight, but they were still there, dusting his cheeks with little constellations. Keith wanted to kiss every single one.

Lance was suspended in a healing pod, skin clear now, but the cut on his stomach screams for attention. It’s not bleeding anymore, thank God, but its deep and fleshy and Keith hopes Lance can’t feel it in there. His shoulders sag a little more than usual, and it’s then that Keith notices the cut that runs from his collarbone, past the soft patch of skin below his jaw, and up toward his ear. Still, he is beautiful. Besides, what kind of fighter didn’t have a few battle scars?   

He audibly sighs, pressing his hand against the glass, right above where Lance’s heart would be. “I’m so sorry.” he whispers.

The doors slide open, but Keith can’t bring himself to pull away. A hand clamps down on his shoulder that forces him to drop his hand to his side. He manages to tear his gaze away from Lance’s face to stare directly at Shiro’s.

“You did good today.” Shiro squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“I can’t-” he begins, “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost him.” He’s aware of the weight of his words. That they mean so much more than their surface value. Keith has never been good with words, doesn’t even know where to begin when it comes to telling Shiro how he feels about Lance. Shiro knows, though. Keith can tell, and that’s always been Keith’s favourite part about his brother. He always knew what Keith couldn’t say. The Black Paladin’s eyebrows crease in thought.

“We won’t let this happen again.” he drops his hand from Keith’s shoulder, crossing his arms instead.

“We shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

Shiro sighs, “we don’t have a time machine, Keith, we can only learn from our mistakes.

“I wish we did.”

If Keith had a time machine, he would go back and fix a lot of things. He would tell his ten year old self to be better. To not drive his parents away. He’d tell his sixteen year old self to be nicer to the boy with the pretty smile and sharp aim. He would tell his eighteen year old self that people are not his parents. Pushing them away won’t make them abandon him, it would only hurt them.

If Keith had a time machine, he would do everything in the past. They were in the midst of war, and yet, Keith doesn’t think he would want to see the future and risk losing the chance to reshape his past.

Shiro’s gaze bounces between Keith and Lance, “we’re not going to lose him. He’s going to be okay.”

“I - um,” his nerve is suddenly gone. _He was going to be okay_.  “Yeah, I know.”

He’s never been good with words.

Keith shakes his head, “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost him.” he repeats, because it’s really all he’s been thinking about since he found Lance. The two stand, side by side, eyes on Lance’s lifeless body, for what feels like hours but is more likely to be no more than three minutes.

“You should tell him that.” Shiro says, not looking at him, and turns to leave the room.

Keith runs the words over in his head. Tell him that. Tell him that his world had shattered the second the comms cut out. Tell him that it felt like the sun had burnt out and all the stars were weeping. Tell him that he couldn’t live in a universe where Lance wasn’t there with him. Tell him that. Keith thinks he will.

He’s never been good with words;

But for Lance, he thinks he wants to be.

The next day would see the residents of the Castle waiting anxiously outside Lance’s pod. At first, none of them wanted to leave his side. They were convinced that they would - could - all be there when he woke up. On the second day, they receive a distress call from a nearby planet. Shiro and Pidge go to sort it out, and the rest of the Paladin’s agree that they couldn’t all constantly watch over Lance, but there should be at least one person by his side at all times. Just in case he wakes up.

Pidge maps out shifts, makes a chart that she hangs next to the door.

Keith doesn’t look at the chart, doesn’t have to. He doesn’t need a piece of paper to tell him when he needs to be with Lance and when he doesn’t. Keith is stubborn, sometimes to fault, but he’d risk dying again before he’d risk the chance of Lance waking up while he wasn’t there. Keith stays by Lance, keeps the person on “Lance duty” company until the ungodly hours of the night.

Any time past the simulated Earth-time of midnight, Keith is left alone in the room while the others sleep. He likes these hours best, when he’s all alone. He’s good at being alone. Lance hasn’t moved much, sometimes he shifts, his head lolling to the side a little. Every time Keith jumps to his feet and watches Lance intensely. Every time nothing happens.

The fifth night is different from the others in that tonight, Keith can’t seem to stop _thinking._ The past few days, Keith had managed to keep his mind pretty empty. He was probably in shock,  his brain finally catching up with the events that had happened, running to keep up with his body.

Tonight, with the soft blue glow of the healing pod illuminating the otherwise dark room, Keith’s mind runs wild. He thinks about Lance, on the ship, shooting out the access pad next to the door, breaking some incredibly complicated code and downloading some of the most pivotal information Voltron has ever gained. Keith didn’t even know Lance knew how to work a computer, let alone hack an entire database.

He wonders if Lance expected to die. He assumes so, if his “last words” were anything to go by. “ _I guess you’ll have to find a new Red Paladin after all.”_ a shiver runs up his spine. He wonders if Lance was scared to die.

Keith knows he was.

He doesn’t like to think about that mission, when his mind was swarming with _knowledge or death._ He doesn’t like to remember the feeling of absolute helplessness. The feeling of acceptance and resignation that the promise of death brings. He hopes Lance didn’t have to feel that. Above all of that, though, he doesn’t like to think about what happened after.  

“What the _hell_ was that?” Shiro had demanded the second Keith had stepped out of his vessel and into the Castle. Keith had to close his eyes to keep himself from crying. Shiro shoved an accusing finger in his chest, before pulling Keith into an embrace.

“I’m sorry” Keith had said, and he meant it.

“You could have died.” Pidge said accusingly from behind Shiro. “You _almost_ died.”

“I’m sorry.” he said again, because it’s all he could say.

“Sorry isn’t good enough!” She had yelled, Keith remembers a lot of yelling that night.

“Pidge is right.” Hunk had entered the room saying.”Keith you can’t expect us to just accept your apology and move on. We’re not letting you go thinking that what you did was justified,” he shook his head.

“I was doing what I thought was right.” He tried to explain. Pidge brought her hand up to cover her face.

“ _Dying_ is never what’s right, Keith. Our whole lives revolve around ensuring that as few people die as physically possible.” And she was right. Keith doesn’t think he’ll ever forget those words, wishes Lance had heard them, too.

Lance had found him later, when the yelling and tears and hugs had subsided and the Paladins had ushered Keith back to his old room for a change of clothes and some much needed rest. Lance knocked on his door, softly, unsure. Keith opened it wordlessly.

He was ambushed with a bone-crushing hug the second the door slid away. Lance pressed him into his body with the hands he placed on Keith’s back, shoving his nose in his hair. Keith stood rigid for a moment, the relief of being alive and Pidge’s words from earlier and something entirely _Lance_ washing over him all at once. He wrapped Lance in his arms, not bothering to smother the feelings in his stomach.

“You scared me.” Lance had whispered into his scalp. Keith hummed in response, his face was pressed snugly just below Lance’s collarbone.

“I’m sorry.” He said sorry a lot that day.

“I know.”

“I was doing what I needed to do.”

“I know.”

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

Lance sighed, “because I get it.”

Keith blinked blankly against the material of Lance’s shirt. “You do?”

“Yeah, Keith. I understand why you did it. People’s lives were on the line. I get it. It’s a heavy burden to carry.” Lance pulled away just enough to look Keith in the eyes. “I’m not condoning it, and I can’t believe you would do something like that, but, we’re warriors now, and war is tough.” he pulled away completely.

Keith had swallowed thickly, swallows thickly now. “ _I understand why you did it.”_ Lance had said, and really that should have set off an alarm in his head. “ _I understand why you did it.”_ Hell, _Keith_ didn’t even really understand why he did it. Keith had thought that when he left, Lance would see how he fit in Voltron. How the team couldn’t function without him. He was wrong.

“ _We_ _need you_ .” He had said, but instead it came out as “ _leave the math to Pidge._ ”

If Keith had a time machine, he would go back to the exact moment when Lance first told him about wanting to step down from the team and tell him that Voltron would literally crumble without him.

“ _We need you,”_ He would say this time, and it would come out as just that. Again and again and again until Lance had no choice but to believe the words as true.

He presses his hand to the glass of Lance’s healing pod. “We need you.”  

...

“Hello again, young one.” says Kolivan when he picks up the video call. “I assume your mission was successful.”

The control room is empty for once; cold and dark in the stark, blue-white light of the video call, devoid of the usual occupants running the ship, all off doing other preparations and duties that must be done in time when Lance recovers (and he’s definitely going to recover. None of them have considered what may happen if he doesn’t). He is loathe to leave Lance alone for longer than a minute, but this needs to be done as soon as physically possible if he wants to never have to leave again.

“I wouldn’t say that.” he says, knowing from his vast experience with the older Galra, that even if he were to get upset and emotional, Kolivan would not care. “The Red Lion’s Paladin has been injured and is temporarily out of commission.”

Kolivan raises a solitary eyebrow. An expression change is a rare thing on Kolivan, to have it as a reaction to this news is discomforting to say the least. Keith launches into a brief, cliff notes explanation of the events of the mission, watching as Kolivan’s eyebrow crawls slowly upward, before snapping back to his default expression sometime around his rescue mission.

Kolivan’s expression does not change in the slightest as his story comes to an end. “I see,” he says after a long moment.

“I just wanted to report that the mission was over,” he says “and...”

He tries to think of what to say, how to explain the depths of his feelings to a being that does not feel as he does, does not care.

Then he thinks of Lance, his stupid grin and his messy bed head that is somehow artfully tousled at the same time, the way he laughs with his whole body, and the way he appears so small and _wrong_ drifting and still, first in the wreckage of the Galran ship, and then in the med pod. He knows what he has to do.

“And how you are leaving us.” finishes Kolivan, like perhaps he’d known all along.

Keith regards him for a long while. “How did you know?” he asks finally, shifting his weight restlessly.

“I knew that when you joined us, it was because of your impatience and your will to be making a real effort in this war when you thought that your team was not doing enough. It would be foolish of me to assume that you would always feel as such.” says Kolivan calmly.

“I just know that my team needs me now. My...my family needs me.” Keith swallows down the lump in his throat.

“You are unwilling to lose your team. You feel they are unacceptable casualties.” Kolivan says.

“If Lance does something like this again, and I’m not there to at least try to stop him? I don’t think I could live with myself anymore. I tried to be like you. To learn and live by your ways, but I don’t think it’s something I can do anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Make no mistake, Keith. I took you in as I believed it was the best option for the Blade. I knew that one day your service to us would come to an end. That day appears to be today.” says Kolivan. He looks tired now, older than before, his silvery scar erie in the harsh lighting.

“Thank you Kolivan, it was an honour to fight with you all.” says Keith.

“I will see you on the field of battle soon then, young Paladin.” says Kolivan “You have served us well. _Knowledge or death._ ”

“ _Knowledge or death._ ” returns Keith, ending the call and slumping down onto the floor for a moment.

 _Well that went well_ he thinks.

The Castle is quieter at night, as if it needed to sleep, too. Honestly, Keith wouldn’t be surprised if it did at this point. Altean tech still doesn’t make much sense to him. He finds himself back in front of Lance’s pod, and sleeping on the floor, but it’s not the most uncomfortable sleeping situation he’s ever been in. At least he has the pillow and blanket from his old room to keep him warm.

A thud wakes Keith from where he’s dozing at the foot of Lance’s pod. He doesn’t know exactly what time it is, but if he had to guess from the placement of the stars, it had to be no later than four in the morning Earth-time. There’s another thud that reminds Keith why he woke up in the first place.

He’s on his feet before he knows it, blood rushing to his head and disorienting him momentarily. Lance is slumped over in the pod, posture still languid and relaxed, but his hand is moving. His fingers wiggle, the middle one knocking against the side of the pod. Keith has never seen someone move while in a healing pod, but then again, he’s only ever seen Lance in one.

There’s an airy sound as the pod slides open, and then Lance is falling. Keith brings his hands up under Lance’s armpits, shifting the taller boy’s weight so he settles more comfortably in his arms. He backs up slightly, trying to keep Lance upright and get a look at his face which is currently pressed into Keith’s shoulder.

Lance shudders slightly, his head lifting off of Keith’s shoulder. He blinks his eyes open and _oh_. Keith really missed that look.

“Hey, Mullet,” and just like that, Keith is crying again, hooking his arms between Lance’s and up to his shoulder blades. His cheek presses comfortably against Lances chest, and he squeezes him so tightly it must hurt. He loosens his grip when he remembers the gash that had ripped through the other boy’s abdomen. Lance rests one of his hands on Keith’s lower back, the other one rubbing the back of his head.

“God, Lance what is _wrong with you?”_ Keith sobs, “You almost _died,_ Lance. I thought you died.” he whimpers weakly.

“I thought I died, too.” Lance answers lamely.

“You might right now when I kill you.” He mutters, “what were you _thinking?”_ Keith squeezes his leaking eyes shut.

“We needed that information Keith. We weren’t coming that far to just give up right at the end.” Lance’s tone is firm, convincing.

“That’s not an excuse to give up your _life,_ Lance!” Keith pulls away from the other boys chest, just enough to catch and hold his gaze. Tears drip down his cheeks, but he can’t bring himself to stop touching Lance to wipe them away. “We need you. _Voltron_ needs you.”

“What Voltron _needs_ is a Red Paladin. It doesn’t have to be me. It never _had_ to be me.” Keith shakes his head violently. “We’re at war, Keith. Sometimes, war calls for death. It’s not pretty, but you have to understand that I would do it again in a heartbeat. If it comes down to my life or someone else’s, I’ll do it again” Lance grips his fingers in the back of Keith’s shirt.

“And have you ever stopped to think about all the live’s you’d be destroying along with your own?” Keith is almost yelling now. “When we thought you had died, we were a mess, Lance! Hunk barely moved, Pidge didn’t stop crying once and I-” he tries to regulate his breathing. _Tell him that._ “-I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.”

Lance visibly softens at his words. “People lose people all the time. War is tough, Keith.”

 _War is tough._ Lance had said those words before, the first time Keith had him in his arms. But now, standing in the dark next to a healing pod that Lance had been in for _seven days_ , they hold something entirely different from the last time Keith had heard them. War was their whole lives now. And yes, people lost people, Keith knew this better than anyone, but loss is not something that is chased down as treasure. It’s a last resort. It’s acceptance and resignation.

“War is tough,” Keith agrees, “but we are tougher.”

…

Keith could spend all morning just standing here, his arms wrapped around Lance, selfishly clinging for one more minute.

But he knows how much the others have suffered already, from thinking he was dead, to watching his battered body slowly healing in a pod, and he can only be selfish for so long before he gives in and releases Lance reluctantly.

“I’ll go tell the others that you’re up,” he says, half-carrying, half-helping Lance down the hallways to the sleeping quarters.

Situating him in his bed, he points at him with narrowed eyes, “Don’t move.”

Lance’s chuckle fills his chest with warmth, but he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Not moving.” he agrees with a teasing smile.

Keith rolls his eyes, but the smile that creeps up his face is fond.

Even this early in the morning, Keith knows the only one asleep will be Hunk, who somehow still manages to maintain a healthy, somewhat normal sleep schedule (bar the occasional nightmare that means some sort of delicious stress-baked 5AM treats the next day). He pokes him awake and shoos him off, almost dad-like (he’s been spending far too much time with Shiro) and heads to the control room.

Even thinking back now, there’s hardly been a time where he can remember seeing Pidge actually sleep. He figures she’ll be with the others, hard at work translating, tinkering or monitoring feeds, doing anything to keep her mind off of Lance’s condition (he’s glad that he’s the only one who’d seen Lance as he’d floated, looking so small and halfway gone already, to spare her from that image, to spare them all from it).

Shiro and Allura will inevitably be talking about battle strategy, likely going over the newly acquired plans, because they feel more acutely than anyone the way the war continues on, the way it has stolen everything away from them until nothing is left, until the only thing they can give is their lives, which they could choose to preserve but push on anyways.

Coran will be nearby Allura, because of his duty is to his princess that he loves like his own daughter, and ever since they’d almost lost her to the Galra, he’d not been more than a shouting distance away.

As one, they all follow Keith back to Lance’s room, like they’d synced their minds to Voltron. The door opens with a quick swish, revealing Lance mid-laugh as a joke spills from his lips, Hunk laughing just as hard, and seated next to the bed on a stool.

And suddenly, there is a fuzzy cloud of orange against Lance’s chest, awkward limbs tangling against his.

“You’re okay,” she chokes out, as Allura, Shiro and Coran come up behind her, each squishing her into him in a hug (no one would dare make her move now, not when she’d been there to see him die).

She finally pulls back and wipes her face angrily, “I can’t believe you!” Her face is anguished, “You’re not allowed to sacrifice yourself for me, you quiznacking moron.”

“It’s okay,” says Lance, going for levity and missing by about a mile, holding his arms out to show his healed body. “I’m okay.”

“I’m sure I can speak for everyone when I say: I’m glad you’re alright, Lance.” smiles Allura beatifically. “You gave us quite a fright.”

“Thanks, Princess,” grins Lance with a flirty grin.

“Don’t ruin the moment,” says Pidge, smacking his arm.

“But seriously, Lance.” says Hunk, reaching out and squeezing his arm. “You’re not allowed to die, man.”

“Contrary to anything you may think, Lance.” says Keith “We need you,”

Lance swallows, looking distinctly uncomfortable and fidgeting with his sheets. _We’ll work on that_ he thinks _This will not happen again._

“How did you manage to survive that blast, Lance?” asks Coran, dispelling some of the tension in the room.

“Good question,” says Keith, walking further into the room from where he’d been leaning against the wall.

“I was in there,” says Pidge, repositioning herself to sit with crossed legs at the end of Lance’s bed. “I didn’t see anywhere with enough reinforcement to allow you to avoid the explosion.”

“Well, as you can see, I didn’t exactly avoid it,” says Lance casually.

Seeing the sudden outpouring of guilty looks, Lance’s eyes widen just a touch.

“Which is not to say that I didn’t avoid it at all, because clearly I’m right here good as new and just fine, but I mean, let’s look at the bright side guys,” he splutters.

“Then how did you avoid _most_ of the explosion?” asks Keith with a sigh, taking pity on him.

“Well, after I got Pidge out of there and incapacitated Keith so they couldn’t do something dumb and try to stop me, upstaging my heroic moment,” begins Lance, in typical Lance fashion.

Keith could feel the collective eyeroll of all the occupants of the room.

“I managed to finish hacking into the mainframe-”

“Yeah,” said Pidge, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “About that, how do you even know how to do that?”

“We were on the same team at the Garrison for a long time, Pidge.” The look on his face is indecipherable, but looks almost shy, and maybe a little disappointed too. “Do you really think I didn’t pick up a thing or two from you and Hunk?”

Pidge just kind of looks at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, the others with mixed expressions of shock and what looks a little like awe. “Oh, I didn’t know that you’d watched me do that kind of thing,”

Lance shrugs, as if it’s not that big of a deal, and Keith guesses that to him it isn’t, even if everyone around him is beginning to see him in an entirely new light.

“Anyways, I finished hacking into the mainframe and sent off the information to the Castle. Then I looked around for a place to hide, because even if I wouldn’t have minded dying for you guys, I wasn’t just going to do it without even trying to live. Who do you think I am?” he says, sharply turning to point a finger at Keith with narrowed eyes. “Don’t answer that.”

Keith holds his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t going to.” But again, he’s struck by the way Lance just disregards his life so casually, as if none of them would care he was gone if he died. As if he thought his life could be considered just another justifiable, necessary sacrifice in this war.

“So yeah, I just used the grappling hook feature on my gun, which kind of just appeared, I’m just going to assume it was because I needed it...and because I’m a badass that clearly needs a grappling hook” says Lance, his eyes twinkling. “And then I spotted it. My genius self spotted a vent at the farthest point from the interface console, camouflaged by the boxes in the corner.”

Lance pauses for a moment, smugly, as if hearing imaginary applause, igniting a flicker of irritation within Keith, but mostly feelings of fond relief that Lance could so quickly bounce back into a semblance of normality. Keith is sure that he can only see the fatigue in his eyes, the slump to his shoulders, the slightest glaze and dimming in his eyes only because he’s looking for it. He wonders how often Lance has slipped into a mask like this, how it can be this easy for him to do so, even after coming so close to death.

“And then I zipped up the vent as fast as possible, just as the room started exploding. I figure I knocked into some stuff cause then I blacked out.” his eyes narrow again, as if daring someone to laugh. “Blacked out, _not_ fainted.”

“Is there a difference?” asks Allura, her eyebrows furrowed.

“No, Princess,” sighs Shiro, “Just Lance being Lance.”

“Yeah, Lance being Lance, alright.” smirks Keith teasingly.

“I’ll have you know that I am the very epitome of manly man,” says Lance, his nose to the air dramatically, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“I never said you weren’t,” says Keith, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Do you need a condom and for us to leave you two alone?” asks Pidge with a raised eyebrow.

“Pidge!” exclaims Shiro, a blush high on his cheeks. Hunk’s eyes are wide as he stares at Pidge, who has a wicked, shameless smirk on her face. Coran and Allura look a little confused, although perhaps the Altean Castle’s translation feature has no idea what a condom is.

If Lance’s face is anywhere near as red as Keith’s feels, then he’s sure that he’d be able to fry an egg off the burn its radiating.

“What?” asks Pidge “You can’t tell me that the sexual tension between them doesn’t make you want to poke out your eyes with a spoon.”

“Pidge!” exclaims Lance this time. Keith is still too shocked to do much more than avoid Lance’s gaze.

Pidge just winks cheekily and stretches very deliberately. “I think I need a nap after all this excitement,”

 _Jesus, Pidge._ Keith thinks, resisting the urge to facepalm.

Hunk and Lance appear to be communicating silently using nothing more than expressions. Pidge pokes Hunk in the side and he startles. “Oh...uh, I think I need to...get the cookies from the oven.” The look on Lance’s face screams betrayal.

“Yeah,” coughs Shiro, his face still pink, smiling at Keith’s desperate attempts to convince him to stay in the room with them. “Allura, Coran and I should really go and discuss the...thing.”

Pidge herds them all outside, Allura and Coran still spluttering in confusion, but allowing themselves be flushed out of the room with the others.

“Don’t have too much fun, you guys.” she winks before flouncing away.

“Um...” begins Keith awkwardly, facing the door, unable to look Lance in the eyes after that.

He can feel the tension building in the room again. That unbearable warmth that fills him from the inside out everytime Lance is with him, like he’s the sun and Keith has no choice but to orbit him helplessly. So close and so far from where he wants to be, always close but never close enough, always just barely far enough to not burn up.

Lance clears his throat, and like a magnet, his eyes snap to Lance’s.

They’ve been blue all along of course, and objectively he’d realized this, somewhere around the time he’d noticed that his legs, despite being long and gangly, actually held quite a bit of spring (especially when kicking some ass or doing his frankly adorable happy dance), or when he’d noticed that his fingers were just as long and lean as the rest of him, perfect for playing that guitar he’d gotten on that one alien planet. But now, now he looks at those eyes and wonders at how they change colours under different lights, finds himself glad to still see that fiery light that sits behind his gaze and ignites when he gets passionate.

Eyes that are firmly trained on him.

Just when he thinks he can’t take much more of the tension, Lance opens his mouth to speak.

“I actually already knew who you were when we rescued Shiro, I just pretended not to because I’m awkward and I thought you were really cute-sorry,” he rambles, before slapping a hand over his face in shock.

He wishes the castle floor would open and swallow him.

Lance’s eyes widen in bewilderment.

“Uh,” he begins, “you what?”

“I’m just...going now, get some rest.” says Keith, hoping to make a clean exit with at least some of his pride intact.

“Oh no you don’t.” Despite having been in a coma for seven days after almost being incinerated, Lance is surprisingly fast, somehow kneeling on the edge of his bed and gripping one of Keith’s wrists, yanking him around to face him. Heat explodes from the point their skin comes into contact.

“You think I’m cute?” asks Lance, amusement clear in his voice. _Of course this is a funny joke to him_.

“This was a mistake, please let go of me,” says Keith, bringing his unhindered hand to his face to cover his blush, avoiding Lance’s eyes. He needs to stop hoping. Lance is _Lance_ and why would he want to have to deal with a dubious part alien, baggage laden idiot like himself. He deserves the world, or at least someone who can be there for him, to love and cherish him without restriction or doubt.

He already can’t breathe, Lance’s breath is fanning across his cheeks and collarbones, and he’s so warm. (And _Oh._ )

“Keith,” says Lance finally, after what feels like an age of just standing there, staring at a spot over Lance’s shoulder, “I think you’re really cute, too.”

Wait. _What._

His eyes snap up to Lance’s, seeing himself reflected in his bright blue eyes. He absently wonders what Lance see’s reflected in his own. Lance’s face is flushed an attractive rosy pink, not quite embarrassed yet, but well on his way. _God,_ he thinks _This is so unfair. Even his blush is attractive._

“What?” he asks. He’s almost positive he’d just imagined Lance speaking.

And then Lance is warm against him, pressed so close to him that he feels like he is burning up. Their mouths slot together clumsily and awkwardly, a little too hard so their teeth bump, but then Lance shifts his head a little, and it’s the best thing Keith has ever experienced in his life.

It could have lasted ten years, or the world could have ended and he would not have noticed in the slightest. All that matters is Lance, whose hands draw him in by the hips, whose face he draws in desperately, hands on his cheeks, like he’s going to die if they stop.

“I was worried that you’d die before I was able to tell you that I...” breathes Keith as they part for air, foreheads pressed together, the tension dissipating altogether.

“I do too.” Lance breathes back, just as softly, as if one wrong breath would shatter the moment.

Keith smiles radiantly, warmth spreading from the points they connect and dispelling outward in waves.

“I missed you.” he says

“I missed you, too” says Lance.

It’s enough for now.

...

War waits for no one, Keith knows this, has tossed the words around his head enough times on the sleepless nights he spent outside Lance’s healing pod, but right now, the day after Lance tumbled out of his coma, it seems like it does for Keith. He’s sitting on one of the couches in the Castle’s lounge, Lance’s head in his lap, one arm strewn lazily over the younger boy’s midriff. Lance had brought his hand up to rest atop Keith’s and is currently idly rubbing his fingers over his knuckles.

It’s nice. It’s ease.

“What’s this from?” Lance asks, running his thumb over Keith’s pinky and down the side of his hand. There is a fading bruise there, yellow and brown after a week of healing. It had been purple and black the first few days, but Keith had hardly noticed, too focused on Lance.

“Tried to break the door to the Galra control room down.” Keith says simply, his unbruised hand reaching up to run along the crown of Lance’s head.

Because he wants to; because he can.

“I’m okay.” And he is.

A crease appears between Lance’s eyebrows, and Keith fights the urge to smooth it out. Lance’s thumb stills against his hand, shifting to intertwine their fingers and bring their hands to his mouth. He kisses the bruise softly, like if he’s not gentle enough it will break. Keith’s breath catches at the sincerity of the gesture. Lance tucks their joint hands under his chin, tilting his head down to trap them there.

“Don’t,” Keith warns, “not now, not again.”

Lance heaves a sigh and Keith can feel it against his thigh.  

“I just… I’m really - I can’t,” he stumbles over his words.

“I know,” Keith says, and he means it. “I know, Lance.” Keith taps the underside of Lance’s jaw, catching his eye when he turns his head. “We need you.” They do.

They fall into silence then, something Keith and Lance are not notorious for, but sometimes, with the responsibility of the universe lying at their feet, it’s best to just sit in silence with one of the only other people in the galaxy who know exactly how it feels to risk their life day and night for a future that they might never get to see. Sometimes it’s best to just share that burden.

It’s nice. It’s comfort.

Lance is restless in Keith’s lap, shifting his hips and fidgeting with their hands that are still secure under his jaw. Sifting fingers through Lance’s (very soft) hair, Keith remembers the scar that had found itself a home on Lance’s neck. A silver, jagged line that spans the long of his neck and cuts off at his collarbone. Brushing his hair away to expose the healing skin, Keith untangles his pointer finger from under Lance’s chin, ensuring that the rest of his hand was still tightly clasping the other boy’s. It doesn’t scream for attention as much as it did when illuminated by the glow of a healing pod, a thin white line that cuts uncomfortably close to the back of his ear. Keith lets the pad of his finger find the scar, running it gently against the slightly protruding skin. Lance shivers at the touch.

“What’s this from?” He echoes Lance’s question from earlier.

“The blast was pretty bad from inside the vent, I guess I got cut on something. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Lance says casually.

“Anymore?” it comes out as a question.

“Yeah, when I first came out of that healing pod it hurt like a bitch. Not as much as my stomach, but still.” he takes a breath as Keith’s finger continues to trace over the mark. “I’m okay.”

Keith smiles. _They’re okay._

The door to their right slips open, and Pidge comes rushing through it, Hunk not too far behind her. They’re both covered in space goo, flailing wildly as they try not to slip.

“I spent _two vargas_ on those cookies! Lance didn’t even get one!” Hunk yells, chasing Pidge around the room. She clambers over the couch, narrowly avoiding stepping on Lance’s feet, flinging goo in every direction.

“I’m _sorry!”_ she yells at the wall, running another lap around the room. “It’s not like I came into the kitchen and purposefully sprayed goo all over everything!”

Lance sits up throughout the commotion, letting Keith’s hand drop in the process. He beams at his friends, smiles so wide that his face might very well split in half. Keith can’t look away. He’s never been this close to Lance, he’s never been allowed to just look at him. They’re sitting close (so close) legs pressed together in every way, shoulders brushing when one of them so much as breathes.

Lance laughs at something Pidge says and Keith thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

Hunk slumps down on the couch across from Keith and Lance, arms wrapping around Pidge’s middle as she squirms to get away.

“Let go of me!”

“Nope, not until you agree to help me make a new batch of _welcome back from the dead - slash - a seven day coma_ cookies for Lance.”

“Yeah, okay fine. Mercy!” Hunk lets his arms fall and Pidge rolls herself to the seat next to him. She pushes her hair out of her face and glares at Hunk, to which he just smiles. Keith watches them from his place beside Lance, his own smile growing at the encounter. Lance is still laughing, Keith is still falling.

It’s nice. It’s healing.

...

“Everyone?” Keith clears his throat. “I have something to say.”

The lounge is at full capacity tonight (and by that he means the whole team is gathered there), with Lance lounging across one, taking up far more space than should be allowed, Hunk relaxing next to Pidge, quietly discussing something that Keith doesn’t understand but assumes is science related. Shiro sits contemplatively at the edge of the seats, lost in thought, while Coran and Allura are relaxing, likely discussing memories of Altea if their expressions are anything to go by.

“Go ahead, babe” winks Lance salaciously from his spot lying on his back. He has to crane his neck awkwardly to give him a teasing grin, but he clearly finds it worth the effort.

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, his cheeks just the slightest bit pink, while the others groan dramatically.

“Anyways,” says Keith “I’m coming back.”

Lance sits up at this, and the rest of the team straightens.

“You’re coming back?” asks Shiro, surprise in his tone.

“I left the Blade of Marmora last night.” he says “I’m...I’m coming home. For good.”

The smiles on his team’s faces are blinding.

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that, Keith.” says Allura, clasping her hands together.

“Welcome back, Buddy,” says Hunk, standing to clap a hand on his shoulder. Like the rest of him, it feels strong and warm and bright.

Pidge stands and gives him a hug wordlessly, and that’s all he needs from her really.

Shiro claps a hand on his shoulder, just like he used to when he felt awkward, or when he was being praised.

Then Lance stands, walking over to him slowly. Keith can’t quite read his expression, somewhere between unbearably happy and awestruck. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but Keith doesn’t point it out like he might’ve done, once.

“Welcome home, Keith” he breathes as he’s crushed in a hug.

And finally, he feels as if he’s found it, that mystical home that he’d only heard about, had forgotten what it felt like once his parents had gone.

“I’m back,” he breathes into Lance’s ear. It feels like enough.

“But what are we going to do about the Lions?” asks Lance, holding out his hands and counting on his fingers, reminiscent of a conversation from not so long ago. “By my count, there are five lions, and six Paladins.”

 _Leave the math to Pidge_ he’d said last time. But it hadn’t been enough, that much he knows now. He opens his mouth to suggest that he stay back to make tactical decisions, if anyone deserves to pilot a Lion, it’s Lance, and he’d give up whatever it takes to make sure that he can.

“I believe I have a solution for that.” says Allura softly.

“What do you mean, Princess?” asks Shiro.

“I mean, that I will step down to fly the Castle once again.” says the Princess, her voice confident and strong and every bit the regal leader he’s known her to be.

“We all bore witness to the strength of the connection between Lance and the Blue Lion. We also all saw the way the Red Lion responded to Keith. Although I may pilot the Blue Lion as of now, who am I to deny such a strong connection, one that I know I can never come close to?” Keith’s eyes find Lance’s, seeing they are the size of the moon.

“Princess...” breathes Shiro, voicing all their thoughts.

“Trust me, Shiro,” says Allura. “I have thought this through. And no Lion has ever gone to rescue its former Paladin. I can only conclude that it is Lance that truly belongs in the Blue Lion.”

“Thank you, Princess.” says Lance seriously. “I’ll do my best to not let you down.”

Allura smiles. “Oh cheer up you lot, it’s not as if I won’t be fighting with the Castle, or conducting operations with you, and besides, Keith has come home and Lance has come back to us in one piece. I feel this is cause for celebration.”

“Group hug!” announces Hunk, who is already on his feet, dragging Lance and Keith in, Pidge giggling and dragging Shiro and Allura along, Coran following soon after.

“I’m home.” says Keith

“Welcome back,” whispers Lance in his ear.

It feels like a promise.

…

Lance’s bed is undoubtedly more comfortable than the floor outside the healing pods. The room is warmer than Keith remembers his old room being, the blanket strewn lazily over the two boy’s tangled legs. They’re facing each other, noses practically squished together in the dim lighting that the stars provide through the small window above the bed. The rest of the Castle is asleep (the first real sleep that any of them have gotten in seven days) but Keith has never felt more awake, this boy _(his boy)_ under his fingers.

Lance’s thumb is rubbing a line up and down Keith’s side, his eyes shining as they watch him and Keith thinks he could map out the stars in his freckles. He lifts his hand to rest against the side of Lance’s jaw, his own thumb swiping gently over the skin under his eye. He leans forward a centimeter and kisses the first freckle his lips find. Lance shudders at the action, eyelashes fluttering against Keith’s cheekbones as he pulls away. 

Lance is like a leaking tap, Keith thinks. He’s so full of love and gives and gives and gives like it doesn’t cost him a thing. Love pours from his very being. He has one of the kindest, most genuine hearts Keith has ever encountered. He never stopped to think that he might have run himself dry. That after giving and giving and giving, and never allowing himself to _receive,_ he might have emptied himself of his seemingly endless supply. Keith wishes Lance learned to turn off the tap, save a little bit of love for himself. He wishes he could give and give and give, and take a little, too.

Lance smiles wider than Keith has seen in a while, his eyes being swallowed by his cheeks. He draws a circle on Keith’s hip, scrunching up the hem of his shirt to brush against the skin there. Keith shivers but he’s not cold at all. Maybe Lance’s room is not warmer than Keith’s, maybe _Lance_ is just warm. Mabe Lance is what’s filling his chest with something incredibly _warm_ and overwhelmingly _there._

He lifts his gaze and _oh._ Keith doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to knowing that that look is just for him. Lance’s eyes are impossibly bluer in the dark.

He’s breathtaking.  

Lance’s face drops a little, clouding over thoughtfully. The motion on Keith’s hip slows, but does not stop. His eyes unfocus, glassy blue irises blinking languidly in the starlight. Keith shifts the hand on Lance’s cheek, dragging it downward to tap his jaw.

“What’s up?” he’s practically whispering, but it still sounds all too loud against the quiet of the ship.

“Just thinkin’,” and okay, that’s fair. Keith had done his fair share of thinking these past few days.

“‘Bout what?” their words are slurring, tongues thick in their mouths, just as exhausted as the rest of them.

“Everything.” Keith thinks that word means a lot more to Lance than he’s letting on. “I don’t know.”

“Explain it to me, then.”

Lance sighs, like he’s frustrated, Keith figures he is. “I just,” his hand stills against Keith’s hip, fingers curling around his waist. “Sometimes, with Voltron and being a Paladin and everyone counting on me, it feels like the universe is sitting on my shoulders. Like it’s my responsibility to carry it and patch up it’s cracks. But I can’t, Keith. I can’t hold it up forever, it’s gonna crush me eventually.”

There’s a tick of silence. “Yeah, you’re right.” Keith says simply, because he is. The universe is a pretty big burden to carry. Lance closes his eyes. “ _But,_ ” Keith brushes his thumb over Lance’s cheek until he opens his eyes again. “You don’t have to let it, Lance. Your purpose in this universe is not solely based on holding it together.” Keith tries to pour the words into Lances soul through his eyes. “So, yeah, you’re right, the universe _is_ yours to carry, but not alone. Never alone.”

Lance is looking up at him with the most earnest expression Keith has ever seen. He looks younger like this. Eyes wide and scared but also so, _so_ hopeful. “You were not built on the principal of carrying the universe.” Keith whispers, his breath getting trapped between their almost touching faces. “Because, really, if the universe is sitting on top of your shoulders, wasn’t it built on the principal of _you?_ ”

Lance’s eyes search his face, willing him to break into a grin, scream “just kidding” and laugh at the faux seriousness. Whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find.

Lance surges forward, knocking their noses together awkwardly, but, honestly, Keith couldn’t care less when he’s too busy trying not to melt at the feeling of Lance’s lips on his own. Lance is a good kisser, (which Keith most certainly never wondered about back when he thought his feelings were one-sided and he had accepted the fate of helpless pining as his life.) He keeps moving his jaw back and forward, capturing Keith’s bottom lip between his own.

Keith isn’t the most experienced kisser. He lies pliant under Lance’s tongue, not wanting to ruin the moment, break the spell, run headlong at something he’s not entirely sure how not to crash into. Lance tilts his head up, bumping their noses together and it makes Keith gasp.

No one has ever been so tender with him.

They breathe together once, twice, too many times for Keith to keep track, and when they finally pull away, the stars have shifted again. Lance’s lips are redder now, his breathing choppy as it fans across Keith’s skin. Only now does Keith notice the deep-set exhaustion that Lance hides under his facade. (He tries not to smile too wide when he realizes that Lance feels comfortable enough with him that he would let him see the very depths of his soul.)

Keith leans forward to press his swollen lips to Lance's freckled cheek. “You need to sleep.” he insists.

Lance hums, “I was just asleep for a whole week.”

“Your eyes are half-shut.” Keith argues, pulling away to look into his (closed) eyes. “You're probably still healing. _So,_ it's probably best if we sleep.”

Lance hums again, this time in agreement.

He pushes against Keith's waist, turning him to face away from Lance. “What are you doing?” God, could he sound any more fond?

“I’m cuddling my boy.” Lance says and it sounds so _right._

“Shouldn’t I be the one holding you? I mean, you did throw yourself up a vent to avoid an explosion.”

“ _No, Keith.”_ he sounds exasperated. “I’ve wanted to be here so many times, you are not depriving me of this.” He pushes his face into Keith’s neck and breathes deeply against his skin. And, really, who is Keith to argue with that?

It’s nice, having someone hold him for once. He didn’t remember what it felt like. The warmth in his chest branches upwards and outward, consuming him, igniting a fire everyplace they touch (everywhere.) Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s middle and _oh._ He thinks the erupting volcano is back,  just under where Lance’s hands are twisting in his shirt.

Keith can feel Lance’s smile against his shoulder, bright and content. He wonders if his smile is just as wide, just as inconcealable.

It’s certainly just as there.

So maybe the mission was a disaster from the beginning.

But maybe it doesn’t have to end that way.

**Author's Note:**

> find Dooka on Tumblr [here](https://dookadork.tumblr.com/)


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